Watching
by Penn Flinn
Summary: While Barry's life hangs by a thread, Cisco deals with the fallout from Zoom's attack. (One-shot, missing scene from 2x06 "Enter Zoom")


**What did I tell you? A week later and I'm still not over "Enter Zoom." It's actually been restricting my writing somewhat-I have an idea for another multi-chapter fic, but I can't for the life of me write about anything else but last week's episode!**

 **Anyway, in efforts to process some of what happened, here is a little one-shot dealing with the aftermath from Cisco's perspective (because we all need more Cisco in our lives). Spoilers, obviously, for 2x06.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Cisco was becoming intimately familiar with the bottom of this trash can. As he gripped the sides, heaving for what felt like the millionth time, he wondered how long he'd been kneeling there. Ten minutes? Thirty?

It was a relief, actually, to be doing something productive with his body. Expelling waste. Expelling every part of himself that he reasonably could, given the circumstances. He didn't want any fragment of what he'd been feeling the past two hours. Never again. It was better at the bottom of the trash can.

He gagged again at the memory. The stifling fear, more prominent than anything he'd experienced before in his life. More suffocating than when he and his brother had been kidnapped. More, even, than when he'd been thrust into the memory of his own death at the hands of Eobard Thawne. At least that had been his own death.

Caitlin's last word echoed in his mind. " _Out._ " It wasn't mean, exactly, not even cold like he'd heard her be in the past. This word was detached, bred of the same clinical shock that had overcome him. He'd complied instantly, knowing that he would only be in her way if he stayed in that medical lab. Barry's blood was still caked under his fingernails from the little he'd tried to do to help, but that was nothing compared to the red slicked over Caitlin's hands, her wrists.

All he'd done anyway was hover. All he could do was watch as Caitlin tried to cover the bleeding holes in his best friend's chest. Things had never been this bad before, and the computer monitors had never displayed a dip so low, the most concrete sign that Barry was inches from slipping away from them.

Cisco knew he couldn't reasonably do anything to help, and Caitlin's snap at him was likely justified. The sting of it was minor in the grand scheme of things, anyway.

Like a robot, he'd gone to the next logical thing: phone calls. He'd been in a state of mechanical motion for too long now, and if he could feel emotion on autopilot he would've been happy for the way his brain shut down. Maybe he would have been worried, too, at how deeply he'd regressed into symptoms of shock, but, hey, there would be plenty of time to feel things later.

Iris had been the last to call, after a slew of two dozen messages from her and Joe that were certainly replicated on Caitlin and Barry's phones. Cisco had dialed her up first, and he was met with a voice thick with tears.

"Please tell me he's okay," she'd said. "Please tell me you stopped that thing."

"He's alive." The words had been automatic, a thing of necessity. "We're trying to keep him that way. Caitlin's with him now."

"I'm coming," Iris had said desperately. "My dad's picking me up. I didn't know—I wasn't sure if he was—he was in the news station and I couldn't do anything, I could just watch, and—"

"He's alive." He had tried to detach himself from that feeling of helplessness, tried to detach himself from Iris' tears. _He'll be okay_ lingered on his tongue, but his heart wouldn't allow it to be vocalized. "Caitlin's with him."

Somehow that had seemed important, important enough to repeat, important enough to end the conversation on. He'd barely heard Iris' forced goodbye. His finger had already been moving toward the "end call" button.

Joe was next.

"Cisco," he'd said after the first ring. "I'm on my way to pick up Iris. We're coming to STAR."

"It's bad, Joe," Cisco had said robotically. Then, as he considered what to say next, he pictured it again, wondered how on earth he could describe to Joe what had happened. What he had seen. Something ruptured in his chest, and he involuntarily flashed back to the thick, dark trickle of blood leaking out of the corner of Barry's mouth.

"It's bad," he had repeated, and the feeling traveled up his chest, up his throat. "I can't—I'm sorry—"

He wasn't sure what had happened first, Joe hanging up the phone in order to drive faster, or Cisco dropping his own in order to race to the trash bin.

Once he'd finished retching—or, at least, once he was certain that nothing solid would be coming up again, he straightened and wiped a hand across his mouth. There was very little reason to clean himself up or look presentable, so he didn't bother fixing his clothes or brushing back his messy, anxiety-ruined hair. His stomach, while now empty and cramped, was no less nauseous than before.

Aimless, he started walking. Maybe he should prepare for the arrival of Joe and Iris. Make sure Linda was safe and okay. Clean up the blood that now stained the floor of the cortex.

The very thought made him sick again.

"Cisco?"

Caitlin's weak voice, so contrary to everything Cisco had come to associate with her, filtered through the door to the medical lab. He hadn't even realized he was there. Some kind of magnetism had taken over, he supposed.

"How's it going?" he asked hesitantly, stepping into the doorway but not quite through it. He didn't dare look at Barry, lying there all pale under the white sheets and white bandages. Caitlin looked something out of a horror movie, with blood staining her shirt and hands, with red streaked across her cheeks from where she had doubtless attempted to wipe away tears while working on her patient.

"You should hydrate," she said. "Sounds like you were pretty sick."

"You heard?"

"I'm not deaf." Caitlin wiped her hands nervously on her shirt and nodded at Barry. "I've done all I can do for the moment. I'm afraid—" She cut herself off with a gulp, but that was an honest sentence in itself, really.

"I called Joe and Iris," Cisco said unhelpfully.

"I wouldn't be so worried about all of the broken bones," Caitlin continued as if she hadn't heard him, "if not for his spine."

Cisco's stomach turned again. "His spine's broken?"

Caitlin nodded jerkily. "Between that and the stab wound—I thought we might've lost him."

While Caitlin took a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs of the med bay that they'd never bothered to replace, Cisco finally chanced a look at the bed. Barry lay there motionless, and if Cisco didn't know better he would have believed that his best friend was truly dead. The thing was, Cisco _didn't_ know better. He knew what he'd seen through the video feed, what he'd seen acted out right in front of him in that cortex.

"Why'd he make us watch?" he finally said, at last voicing what had been bothering him for so long. He took a seat in the other chair a few feet away from Caitlin. She hardly looked up—by the glazed look in her eyes, she was also descending into useless shock as he had. "He could've killed Barry out there, in the parking lot. Or out in the streets. He could have killed Barry _instantly_. You saw how easily he…"

He, too, couldn't finish. The fear came rushing back to him at once, a stark remembrance of what had preluded the shock. It was the paralyzing agent, the shot that had numbed him to his core.

"Zoom wanted a show," Caitlin said hollowly. "A spectacle."

"I just…felt so helpless." The obviousness of the statement did little to relieve the bursting in Cisco's chest. "You know? From the minute they started fighting. Watching security cameras. Watching vitals charts. Watching him die feet in front of us. Watching. Watching is so _helpless_." Cisco, unable to control the shaking in his hands, opted to run them through his hair, clamp them firmly at the base of his skull. Hold in his brains.

" _He's killing him_."

"Barry's not going to go out easily," said Caitlin. "He's a fighter. It's in his nature."

"I just wish I could have done something," Cisco said. "I wish I could _do_ something. To help."

"You did," Caitlin said, exhaustion bleeding down her face and into her voice. "And you can."

"How?"

"By being there for him when he wakes up," Caitlin said.

"If he wakes up," Cisco said, and his voice was dry and tight again, his gag reflex acting up once more. He swallowed.

"I believe he will," she said. Her unspoken words hung in the air: _I have to believe_. "But it won't be easy. He's going to need us."

 _The crack of bone. The sickening realization that it was all over._

"And what if Zoom comes after him again to finish the job?" Cisco looked at Barry again, at the bruises and the blood and the utter lifelessness there. Beaten literally within an inch of his life—Cisco had never seen anything like it. "You know he will. And what if he makes us watch again? While he kills Barry? For good this time? I can't—"

" _Do you have him?"_

 _No. No. No._

"Cisco," Caitlin said, reaching across for his hand. Her voice was so monotone he didn't even believe she was mentally there, but her blood-caked hand was still warm against his. "Stay with me, okay? We're here. We're now. Right now, Barry needs us to stay that way."

Cisco nodded, gripped Caitlin's hand back. His other hand squeezed into a fist so tight it broke the skin of his palm.

If Zoom was going to kill Barry, he'd have to be damn sure that Cisco was dead too.

* * *

 **I was so impressed with Carlos and Danielle this last episode, and I wanted so badly to explore their thoughts/reactions during the fight itself. Not sure it's quite there yet, but there's always room for more fic!**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading, and please leave a comment with your thoughts. More fic to come soon (I can safely say I'm addicted to writing in this universe now)!**

 **Till next time,**

 **Penn**


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